


Abigail

by TheOtherCourse (kanevixen)



Series: Tom and Abigail Series [4]
Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Real Person Fiction, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Celebrity Crush, Co-workers, Crush at First Sight, Crushes, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Making Love, Sex, Sexual Content, Tender Sex, Tenderness, Vaginal Sex, Vulnerability
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-22
Updated: 2015-01-22
Packaged: 2018-03-08 14:09:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3212012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kanevixen/pseuds/TheOtherCourse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In July 2011, Immediately following the Avengers shoot (moved from April-August to January-June).Tom Hiddleston and his costar, Abigail Morgan are drawn into a very private and torrid affair.</p><p> </p><p>
  <img/>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Abigail

“Tom, I need you.”

A sleepy moan was my only reply. Call it hormones, call it melancholy, call it PMS. I just needed to feel him on me, around me, in me. I was feeling selfish and alone, and I craved the closeness. Somehow our relationship was far from perfect, but we worked.

“Tom, please…” I could tell he was still deep in slumber by the even rise and fall of his naked chest with his deep breathing. He was on his back, the streetlamp lit window silhouetted his profile. His beautiful features darkened against the light backdrop. His proud, prominent forehead, his long British nose, his soft rounded chin. He was so gorgeous that sometimes I had to pinch myself that he chose me as his bed partner, for lack of a better word.

 

I was beside him, with him every night because he wanted me there as much as I wanted to be there. Tonight was no different than any other night, except for my desperation, that inexplicable emptiness inside.

Gently I ran my finger from the top of his nose and traced down the length of his face. I stopped at his lips and gently ran my fingertip along his mouth. Tom groaned with the intrusion into his sleep. Trying again, I whispered, “Tom, please wake up.”

Still unsuccessful.

I scooted my naked body up against his side, blowing a puff of air into his ear. I didn’t want to startle him awake, so I was trying subtle. I sucked his earlobe into my mouth, applying a touch of pressure. My hand found its way across the width of his chest along his collarbone to hold him to me.

Slowly, Tom, still mostly asleep, wrapped his arm securely around me, pressing me to him. I sucked his earlobe between my lips, trying again. The man beside me moaned again. I whispered into his ear, “Please. I need you.” I kissed the desirable column of his neck in another attempt to rouse him. “Tom.”

The small moan that sounded from him was a sleep laced question. Knowing that I was on the verge of pulling him from unconsciousness, I ran my hand down along the length of his chest. Savoring every inch, I grazed my palm over his nipple and down over his ribcage. I stopped when I reached his waist.

“Mmm, don’t stop there, darling,” his voice murmured into the darkness of the room.

I put my head down on his chest and he kissed the top of my hair. I said softly, “I need you.” My voice caught on the last word.

Sensing my tone, mood and desperation, he rolled me onto my back. In one fluid motion, he was on me, holding my hands with his by my head. Although we couldn’t see each other in the dark, I knew he was searching my face for a clue to my state of mind. “Abby, what’s the matter?”

I shook my head, he would be able to see the movement. I didn’t want to talk about it, because I wasn’t sure how to put it into words. Purely, an emotional breakdown with no substance to the temper. “I just need you.”

Hesitantly, he asked, “You aren’t going to tell me, are you?”

I moved beneath him, propping my feet on the bed, trapping the man between my knees. I didn’t know how to request what I wanted. Fucking seemed crass and that’s not exactly what I needed. Companionship. Connection. Compassion.

Tears born of frustration and tension burned behind my eyes. I couldn’t cry in front of him, not real tears. Our play required me to cry during a scene, so he had seen those in rehearsal. But this, this was a true, real, authentic sorrow. I knew I couldn’t put that into words.

Sighing deeply, stamping down the lump in my throat, Tom sensed my mood. He was incredibly in tune and sensitive to emotions. He was receptive and incredibly observant, and he used that in his craft. I didn’t have to tell him that I didn’t want to talk, I just wanted to feel.

He lowered his lips to mine, capturing them gently. Time slowed and he did little more than just press his lips to mine over and over again. There was no rush, nowhere to be. A middle of the night meeting between lovers.

Eventually, he deepened the kiss, our lips ceased leaving the others. Sensually, he tasted my upper lip with his tongue, and then the lower. In his way, he was asking me to let him in and I was all too eager. I parted and met his in the middle. Slight touches, slight tastes, just enough to excite the nerves.

Releasing my hands from the prison of his, he ghosted his fingertips down my arms. Feathery light touches just to awaken every pore to his enticement. I ran my hands down the long smooth plane of his back. As I reached his waist, I squeezed him to me with a touch of urgency. I concentrated on the delicious and sensual feel of his warm skin on mine, our naked bodies pressed together.

As our kiss deepened, Tom started brushing his pelvis against mine. He was almost completely firm against my center, his body slow in response to being woken in the middle of the night. But it was perfect and just what I needed in that moment. Wrapped in his arms, in his warmth, in his life. In that moment.

Pulling his lips from mine, he asked, “Are you ready?” There was an understanding there. I didn’t need the foreplay that we usually performed. From my grip on his hips, he couldn’t get his hand between my legs to ensure that I could accept him.

“Please.”

He brought him lips back to mine and thrust into my body with a gentle push of his pelvis. I felt whole, with him seated deep within me. I had been feeling vulnerable and needed something physical to overcome my hormones. Being a woman was difficult sometimes, but with a man like Tom, it helped to remind me that it was truly wonderful as well.

He slid in as far as he could go, retreated slowly, and pressed back in with slow, deliberate and graceful strokes. Languid and not rushed, his body provided the pleasure to make me forget, the pleasure my body yearned and longed for. We didn’t go for long, enough for us both to reach ecstasy, and exhaust our beings again for sleep.

As he pulled me into his embrace again to settle back down, he sighed my name, “Abigail.”


End file.
